


Late December Back in '54

by steelebalto



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23079859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelebalto/pseuds/steelebalto
Summary: The Fall of 1954 would prove to be an emotional roller coaster for the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, and it was all because of that '55 Chrysler 300. This is the story of Doc's final months on the track, and a special car who would come to hold the key to his heart. Warning: strong language
Relationships: Doc Hudson/OC
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Hud didn’t like fast women, Hud liked fast men. Louise Nash would learn the first half of that statement pretty early on into her friendship with the Fabulous Hudson Hornet, but it would take a cherry red Chrysler with the Coca-Cola insignia and the number fifty seven painted on his side to learn the latter half. 

My name is Daytona, Daytona Vett. I’m a model year 1955 Chrysler 300; one of the first actually. You know it’s funny how a car’s model year works; we’re officially considered our make and model at twenty years old when we’ve reached full maturity but that happens in the fall of the previous year. I’m doing a bad job at explaining this; it’s not super complicated but it is strange. To put it simply, on September 17th, 1954, I had turned twenty and was crowned one of the very first Chryslers of the model year for 1955. More ‘55 Chryslers would come of age throughout 1955 as would most other models, but being one of the first meant that I was snatched up real fast. 

We were different to say the least. ‘55 Chrysler 300’s were the first cars to have developed what would come to be known as the hemispherical engine; a “hemi” as most know it. We clocked 300 horsepower through our big eight cylinder engines and two speed powerflite transmissions. We were powerful and we knew it. Sponsors knew it too, and we were quickly drafted by big name companies to race for them in the ‘55 season. They paraded us as the next big evolution since the Hudson’s developed their step-down designs back in ‘49, and the ‘55 season was projected to be the craziest in the sport up until that point. 

We had become such a big deal so early on that some sponsors got sneaky, and fired their older racers at the end of the ‘54 season to make room for their new rookies. I was snatched up quickly by Coca-Cola who had never sponsored a racecar before, thus the earliest I could get in was in the ‘55 season. My crew chief and I had decided however, that I should still go public and sport my new sponsor’s colors and number; I even had a set of black wall street tires done up with “dirt track racing” spelled out just like on the actual racing set I would use in the coming season.

Though I wasn’t officially racing in the Piston Cup yet, I still made my presence very much known. I would street race against other cars, take part in smaller races, and there were even a few times we’d sneak onto the track the day or so before or after a Piston Cup race to have our own which ended up drawing quite a bit of a crowd. 

Intimidating was a word often used to describe us 300’s; as was arrogant. Our engines were loud and there were a few who definitely had a stick up their tailpipe who wanted to harass the other racers. Don’t get me wrong though, I was certainly arrogant myself. I never took part in ganging up on the other cars though, I’ve had plenty do it to me if I made the mistake of hitting on a guy I got the wrong signals from. I knew I was a good looking car and I would flaunt myself around like it was a runway show and I was modeling a set of Pirelli’s. I became especially vain upon gaining the nickname “Pretty Boy” by other cars and the media; I soaked that shit up.

Clearly my own opinion of myself hasn’t changed much has it? I’ve spent a while talking about who I am but it’s probably time I start explaining what I started this whole thing off with. One doesn’t allude to a fag relationship between celebrities as small talk. By the way, don’t try and get on my bumper about the word fag, I admit to being one whole heartedly and I’ve never seen anything wrong with it because there isn’t. Boys can like boys and this boy had a hard on for Hud, anyway...

The Hudson Hornet was an inspiration for me ever since he debuted in 1951. I’d followed his career since the beginning; soaking in his twenty seven single season wins with absolute awe. I knew that I wanted to race with him, and by the time he’d won his third Piston Cup, I admitted and accepted that I thought the guy was hot. Long story short for this part, when I turned twenty that September in 54’ I left my hometown of Rutherford, New Jersey and started scouting for a sponsor in North Carolina. As you know, I got myself a deal with Coke on account of what I was; though I also think my already bright red paint caught their attention too, and started down the path of racing.

By the time I met Hud I’d already been racing a bit and had made a good name for myself. I was quickly gaining a reputation for being particularly graceful on my tires and not relying on the sheer brunt power of my engine to get me ahead; I was smart, I was agile, I was good. I still am those things to this day, I have no shame in saying it. 

He and I met the day he won against the, at the time, only 300 in the Piston Cup. I didn’t bother to learn his name, he seemed to take an immediate dislike to me. So I decided he wasn't worth my time and filed him away in my mind as just another racer.

Hud had been pushed against the wall a few times by the guy which made me real angry; he was submitting to such a low to keep his lead position and he got what he deserved. Hud ended up driving his passenger side tires up the wall and literally flipping over the guy and taking his lead in the final stretch of the race. Watching that Chrysler’s face turn to pure shock at what had happened made me burst out laughing from my spot near the pits and I know for a fact he heard me when he pulled in considering the death glare he shot my way. 

I had positioned myself in a spot close to Hud’s pit and had been making small talk with his crew chief, Smokey. The guy was real friendly, though he was a bit taken aback to see one of these new rookies acting civilized, especially after seeing what that 300 was trying to do out there on the track. I think I had fully convinced him that I wasn’t trying to be nefarious once he saw my genuine guttural laugh at seeing the 300 get his bumper handed to him by Hud. I should actually be pretty grateful for that Chrysler because if it hadn’t happened the way it did, Smokey might not have introduced me to his star pupil.

“Hud, I’d like you to meet your competition in a more civilized style. This here’s Daytona and he’s gonna be racing with you next season.” Smokey said as the Hornet drove up towards us with a big shit eating smile on his bumper.

I drove forward and offered my own confident smirk. I had this particular smirk I would do when meeting someone I wanted to like me that I felt complimented my face. I would let my eyelids droop ever so slightly with my mouth upturned to the right a bit and then give a slight tip of my hood at the other car. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hornet. I look forward to racing with you, I’ve been a fan for a while now.” 

Hud chuckled and bowed his own hood to me a bit. I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t flicking my taillights on and off; it’s always been a nervous habit of mine.

“Pleasure’s all mine. I reckon you’ll make next season real interesting. I’ve seen you before, you’ve made quite the name for yourself already. Based on what I’ve seen from you so far, we race pretty similarly, gonna make for some heated moments on the track for sure. Heh heh.” 

Hud chuckled again but this time i could feel myself grow incredibly warm in the fenders. He knew who I was, at least enough to know my racing style. I of course didn’t wanna lose my cool in front of the guy, so I kept my composure and tried to bring my tail light flicking to a minimum.

“I look forward to seeing how our chemistry reacts to one another. Any time you wanna have a little practice run, just let me know.” 

I replied in a suave tone that Hud seemed to receive quite well.Race Cars can be horn balls for sure I won’t deny that, and I’d seen my fair share of guys having some post race smooching when no one was looking. I found it funny how taboo being a fairy was considering how many cars I learned were into getting their undercarriage felt up by the other guys themselves from wandering to the backs of some bars where racers would hang out after a few laps.

While I was studying the Hornet’s features as he took in my reply and thought of one of his own, he came out with a proposition that almost made me stall; good thing my engine was off. 

“Why don’t you stop by Smokey’s tonight; we can go grab a drink and I can introduce you to some of the other cars you’ll be swapping paint with come March.”

Hud’s voice took on that characteristic friendly tone I’d become so used to hearing when he gave interviews. Say what you will about Hud, but you can’t deny that he was always friendly and genuinely interested in making friends out of his fellow racers. 

I nodded my hood once in reply before we turned away; both to the respective press who wanted statements and comments on the race. I found it difficult to talk to the reporters that day; my mind was racing thinking about that night.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time I’d gotten finished answering questions and giving comments to the various RSN reporters on the track, it was nearing six o clock. As I’ve said before, I take pride in the way I look; the way my paint shines and how polished my chrome is. So I decided that I needed to wash up a bit before meeting Hud at Smokey’s, and luckily there was a tiny little car wash up the road from the track. It must’ve been good business over there, what with all the racers needing to get a hose down after sand got into every crevice of their bodies and coated their paintwork after the races. I hadn’t even been racing that day but just from driving through the sand to get to my viewing spot had left my rocker panels and fenders dirtier than I’d prefer them to be.

I know what you must be thinking. What kind of dirt racer gives a crap about getting some sand in his grill? My answer to that is that I don’t mind it on the track; it’s expected there, but once a race had finished, I’d prefer a more showroom quality appearance. The magazine In Drive had already done a few photoshoots with me and a couple other 300’s. We were of course being shown off as the new models for the year, but Coca-Cola had also taken out their own ad space in the magazine and thus I had to do some extra promo shoots with them. I never minded the photo shoots, and I still don’t. I enjoy them a lot, and since I was continuously used (even more so than the other 300’s might I add) I can assume others were enjoying my stuff too. 

I always washed off rather fast though, which I find kind of ironic considering how highly I hold my appearance. So upon arriving at the carwash that night, I was in and out in less than thirty minutes which gave me some time to fill up with gas. I hadn’t been living in Thomasville for more than a week at that point; I was still moving around a lot with the races, and I wasn’t yet completely familiar with everything in town yet. 

I’d ended up pulling into Smokey’s without even realizing it to fill up with gas. He had two pumps outside with a small light so you could see them as you pulled up. His garage sign hadn’t lit up yet. It was that time of evening where it was just slightly too dark to register exactly what it said if you weren’t already familiar with it, but still too light I supposed to light it up.

I drove over the little pressure plate on the ground in front of the pump that said ‘premium’ to trigger the little ding of the bell to alert the attendant that a customer had arrived. I popped my hood and gas cap and patiently waited for a little pity or forklift to come out and offer an oil check along with my fuel but was immediately stunned to see Hud himself roll out of the garage and pull up to me. My eyes had gone wide and I stood up a little higher on my suspension than I usually did in surprise.

“Just couldn’t get enough of us on the track, huh?” 

He offered me a kind smile as he said it and pulled over to the otherside of the pump. I followed him with my eyes.

“I take it I pulled into Smokey’s then? I’m still unfamiliar with this town, I was just stopping for some gas before heading your way.”

I played it cool and gave a little ‘heh’ at the end of my response. 

“You did. Good timing though. What’ll you have?” 

Hud looked at me as he prepared to start the pumps. The whole time I was still looking at him over my right fender. I’d already put myself in neutral and my parking brake on so that I wouldn’t flick my lights nervously.

“The Fabulous Hudson Hornet serving me? Not what I was expecting.” 

I laughed and smiled, Hud did the same in return.

“Premium, and if you don’t mind, don’t stop at the first click. I like to brim my tank.” 

Hud nodded his hood in reply and clicked the nozzle into my gas tank before he pulled around back in front of me.

“Your hood’s popped, I take it you want your oil checked?” 

I had completely forgotten that my hood was open and upon being reminded of it I quickly locked it back into place. 

“Just a top off on wiper fluid actually if you’ve got any. I’ve been running low lately and keep forgetting to get it filled.”

I lied. My wiper fluid was fine but I would’ve felt bad making him check my oil; it wasn’t his job and it would’ve gotten dirty I’m sure. Oil gets everywhere, and he’d clearly gotten cleaned up himself to go out too.

He nodded his hood and drove back into the garage and by the time he had come out, my tank was near overflowing as I liked and he pressed the button to pull the nozzle out. He then drove back in front of me and wheeled an apparatus to fill my wiper fluid towards me, so I popped my hood open fully and sat still while he positioned it and allowed the liquid to flow into the reservoir.

“How much do I owe ya?” 

I asked while we waited for the container of wiper fluid to finish.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

He replied nonchalantly as the canister finished. He then pulled the nozzle out from under my hood so I could shut it. He started driving towards the garage with the apparatus so I followed.

“No, no, no. We aren’t doing that.”

I replied firmly as we drove through the doorway into the light of the garage’s interior. Hud placed the filler in a corner while I sat sternly waiting for him to respond.

“Oh we’re not?” 

He asked playfully with a smirk I’d expect to see out of myself. I knew what he was doing, he was playing alpha and while the concept appealed to me, this was Smokey’s place and I wasn’t gonna swindle the guy; I could pull my own weight.

Hud remained planted in his spot. He wasn’t gonna budge on this unless I made him, but luckily I’m a brat and I spotted the dial-up machine that took down your payment information to my left and drove over to it. It was a newer one by the looks of it, with a dial on the ground where you could spin your tire over it to scroll through numbers and click a button directly next to it to input a digit. I typed out my credit numbers and the last four digits of my vin number, but I hadn’t realized Hud had driven up next to me while I was typing until I went to input the price.

“That wasn’t seven dollars worth of gas, hotrod.” 

“I’m a big car.” 

I replied, and before he could protest, I confirmed the sale and backed away from the machine and turned to face the Hornet with a smirk which he returned.  
“I didn’t count on you knowing how that thing works.” 

“My mom runs a detailing shop; I used to run the register.”

Hud chuckled and proceeded to start driving out of the garage; I followed. 

“Well you’ve utterly defeated me once now, so what do you say we go grab some celebratory drinks.”

Hud spoke as he began to pull out onto the empty road; flicking his lights on. I followed behind and turned my own on before pulling up beside him as we drove down the road to the bar. You could see the bar itself from Smokey’s so we didn’t even bother turning on our engines to make the short drive, and we didn’t talk until we pulled through the front door.

Hud spoke up first as we made our way inside; music was being played by a band of forklifts on the stage in the back left corner.

“Alright fellas, big red over here’s with me. He’s gonna be racing next season so make him feel welcome.”

Hud’s voice caused everyone to look over at us and regard us with warm smiles. He led us to a table where a 1950 Nash Ambassador and 1940 Ford V8 Coupe were enjoying some drinks. I recognized the two immediately: Louise Nash and Junior Moon, both highly respected racers in the Piston Cup and part of Hud’s friend group.

“Well if it isn’t the Fabulous Hudson Hornet and one of the new fellas. What’s your name, rookie?” 

Louise’s voice reminded me of a sweet school teacher; not someone you’d expect to be so aggressive out on the track. I respected her just as much if not more than I did Hud, she fought her way into the sport and showed a bunch of uptight men what a girl could do.

I smiled at her and bowed my hood a bit.

“Daytona Vett, Miss Nash. It’s an honor to meet such an inspirational racer and it’ll be even more of an honor to race with you.”

Louise smiled. 

“Northern boy huh? We don’t get too many of you ‘round here.”

I smiled in return as Hud and I settled into our spots at their table.

“I should’ve guessed my Jersey accent would give me away.” 

I laughed, as did Louise before responding.

“I’ve also seen your pictures in the magazines. You 300’s are quite the talk of the track and you in particular seem to be leading the pack when it comes to media coverage.”

A smile creeped across my bumper at that one.

“My sponsors have been putting me in ads wherever they can.”

Hud took that opportunity to put his own two cents in on the topic.

“Can you blame them for wanting to? Pretty Boy over here’s a good looking car.” 

Hud chuckled at the end of his statement with his usual friendly smile.

I however felt my oil run cold. I had started to become a bit suspicious of Hud ever since he offered to fill me up with gas. Now that he was openly almost flaunting me around, my suspicion grew. I was becoming more and more convinced the Hornet wanted to get to know me more… intimately. 

“So you convinced Coke to sponsor you next season?” 

Junior’s voice broke through my thoughts. I had been staring off into space a bit but immediately snapped my attention towards the old race car. The way he looked at me was a bit jarring; he tended to have a bit of a cold stare. I noticed it when he would give interviews so I knew it wasn’t necessarily directed at me most likely, just something he did.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they actually reached out to me first. I was getting settled into my garage and I got a call from one of their representatives. Said they wanted to talk to me about a potential sponsorship for the ‘55 season.”  
Junior seemed to roll his eyes a bit which took me aback, I didn’t think I said anything offensive. 

“They’ve turned me down for a sponsorship quite a few times. Guess they prefer new exciting models.” 

Junior’s response came off a bit irritated but not necessarily aimed towards me. He seemed to harbor a bit of resentment for the company which I could understand; being turned down more than once only to see a rookie get it without even asking would leave anyone a bit pissed off in my opinion.

“Junior, you have a mouth on you that would sour just about any big name company out there.” 

Hud had jumped in with his own retort; seemingly picking up on the awkwardness of the situation. He spoke in a joking tone which earned a giggle out of Louise and even a smirk out of Junior himself. He then turned his attention to me and tapped me with his tire.

“So what’s your poison?”

I leaned slightly to my left, angled towards the Hornet to reply.

“I don’t drink actually. I have no idea what’s good or not, but I would prefer something with some flavor. I don’t wanna drink to get drunk. I'd rather enjoy it.”

I felt my fenders grow a bit warm. I was afraid I was about to get made fun of for not ‘“drinking like a man” but Hud simply smiled and drove up to the bar. He returned with something I can’t even remember, but it was tasty. I remember it tasting a bit like a soda but with some alcohol in it. 

Hud and the others had all ordered what I assumed was a bit less stereotypically girly in this town, but stopped at their second round. It was nice to see that I wouldn’t have to babysit three drunk cars. There had been a few nights I and the other 300’s I was doing photoshoots with would get so plastered that they’d trade their designer rims with other cars. They’d get chewed out by the magazine reps the next day for showing up with old dented Ford and General Motors hubcaps.

The four of us chatted, told stories and jokes for about an hour and a half. I got them all laughing with stories about the RSN photoshoots, and the shenanigans we pulled on one another. The three other race cars took particular interest in my short but eventful racing career up to that point. They seemed to be extremely curious about my rather unique style of racing. I had learned how to become extremely nimble in corners like a small European sports car rather than relying on my straight line power the other 300’s tended to do. 

After a while, Junior and Louise excused themselves for the evening. I expressed how nice it was to meet them and they left our table, now only Hud and I remained. 

Hud quickly turned his attention towards me once the two other cars had left. He had on his suave smile he did when he was particularly proud of something he’d done in a race.

“So I know you’re a great racer, I know you came from Jersey and that your parents run a little detailing shop, and I also know that you’re a hell of a lot of fun to talk to; you have a good sense of humor.” 

Hud then glanced over to our right. I followed his gaze where I saw three girls sitting at a table across the room who kept smirking at me and enticing me to come over to them by blinking flirtatiously. Hud then glanced at me again and started talking which made me fix my attention back on him.

“You also seem to have a few girls swooning over you. You hitched yet?”

I have to say I wasn’t expecting the question at all. I was used to cars flirting with me at bars; in fact I was usually the one acting more outwardly interested in the other guys to get the few brave ones to come talk to me. For some reason though, I wasn’t expecting it coming from Hud. Maybe it was because I wasn’t acting in my usual suave fashion that night because the car I was really interested in was Hud, but either way, I wasn’t ready for the sudden shift in mood.

“Not interested in girls.” 

My reply was short and a common one I’d give if other guy cars asked something similar. It was open ended and left me with room to back track if the guy was looking for trouble, but also left the door open for those who knew what it meant. Call it the early version of fag language.  
“Same here. Louise asked me out once, but I told her I don’t like fast women.”

From the moment he asked the question about being hitched I knew exactly what he was doing. You had to be careful in the 50’s when you hit on other guys so loaded language was common among us, and easily picked up by those in the know. Hud’s response about Louise told me what I needed to know, and I decided to get bold.

“Fast guys however… different story.” 

I smirked as Hud nodded his hood once. Our secrets were now out in the open, and common interest between us was established. I didn’t even try to slow my tail light flickering at that point.

“You flicker your lights a lot. Nervous habit?”

I have big tail lights, and it’s easy to spot them turning on and off if you look down my sides. That being said, Hud was easily able to see that it was tick which made me a bit embarrassed.

“Heh, yeah.” 

I glanced off to the side to avoid eye contact with him. He chuckled though which made me glance toward him again. Hud then glanced down at my hood.

“Lemme hear it.” 

I looked at Hud a bit confused. He smirked and lightly tapped my bumper.

“Rev it. I wanna hear it in person.”

Now I understood. I started my engine and without even thinking about the fact that we were in a building, I made sure my brakes were on and my transmission in neutral before I gunned my accelerator and let my engine spool up, loudly. The whole time I kept a cocky smirk plastered to my bumper, a bit of showing off on my part was enough to get me over my embarrassment.

Hud’s smirk widened and I could’ve swore he bit the corner of his bumper a bit. 

We heard other cars in the bar whistle and say things like “damn!”. Hud and I glanced around a bit as they all looked at us for a moment but then turned their attention back to whatever they were doing when they saw that I wasn’t planning on doing it again nor was it the start of a bar fight. 

We looked back towards one another. Hud suddenly rolled forward and planted a little kiss on my bumper before quickly pulling back. I sat there slightly stunned. I should’ve expected one of us would start cranking up the heat a bit more, but the fact that the Fabulous Hudson Hornet was the one doing it still didn’t seem real to me.

“I don’t wanna hookup with you. I wanna get to know you more and go on a couple of dates. You understand what I’m saying?”

Hud spoke in a low tone. He was looking to pursue me long term which I definitely wasn’t ready to hear. 

I simply nodded my hood.

“Good. Meet me at the track tomorrow morning; ‘round 10. There’s no race but I wanna see you in action, maybe see a bit more too.”

Hud winked which made my fenders go red hot.

I nodded again in reply, and the Hornet left me with another smirk before driving off. I was, as I’ve now said many times, shocked. I’m getting repetitive but it’s the only way I can describe how I was feeling at that moment. I seemed to be glued to my spot for about five minutes before I too left the bar and drove the five minute drive to my garage. 

Author’s Note:  
Hey there! I’ve decided to post this chapter as you see it now but I’d like some feedback specifically where Daytona mentions that he and the other racers shared stories. Please let me know if you’d like me to add to that part and put some dialogue in there! I wanted to get this chapter out yesterday so I’m a bit antsy about posting it so I’ll leave it up to you readers if you’d like to see that scene unfold a bit more! Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

I was startled awake the next morning by my alarm clock. I hadn’t used it the past couple of days and I guess forgot how loud it was. My engine jumped to life with a quick but loud spool up as I jumped to the side. Regaining my composure, I shut it off and sat still; waiting to hear someone angrily knock at my door demanding I keep it down. It wouldn’t be the first time I had someone want to pick a fight; thinking I did it on purpose. After a moment of silence, and nothing happening, I figured that either there was no one in the garages connected to my own, or they just didn’t hear me. Either answer was fine with me.

“What time is it anyway?”

Looking over at the clock I got my answer as one would probably expect. 9:32. Plenty of time for me to have a quick cup of coffee. Plus, since we were heading out to the track and I’d filled up on gas the previous night, I wouldn’t need to do much in terms of getting ready. 

I drove out of my room and into my kitchen. It wasn’t a fancy setup; one bedroom and one bathroom garage with an open area for a little living room and dining room setup. The kitchen was new though, pink metal cabinets and gray formica counters with nice General Electric appliances. The refrigerator was stocked with soda from Coca-Cola, I always had the stuff for obvious reasons, and my pantry had some cookies. I wasn’t the best at grocery shopping, but I did at least remember to get the coffee grounds and filters. Seeing as I’m going on a bit of a tangent again, I’ll skip over the coffee drinking. It was fine by the way. 

I left my garage at about a quarter to ten. One of the nice things about Thomasville in the mid 50’s was that it was small and you could make your way across it in about fifteen minutes. The track was only a five minute drive from where I was living, and on my way there I got a couple looks of admiration from a few cars. I was fairly certain an old Plymouth winked at me and licked his bumper as I drove by a side street.

When I got to the track, I found the gates locked and no other car in sight. I was a bit early so I sat there and looked around for Hud, and stayed alert in case that Plymouth decided to steal a taste. Probably two or three minutes of waiting later and I could hear an engine over the hill, and the crackle of the exhaust from the car staying in gear while slowing down all but told me it was Hud. I’d noticed that was something he tended to do, stay in gear and let off the accelerator to let his exhaust crackle a bit.

The blue hornet came into view a moment later and upon spotting me as he came down the hill, he angled towards me and came to a gentle stop a few feet away. He took a look at the locked gate, and then to me.

“Morning. Glad to see you, Hotrod. I was thinking about you last night.”

He smirked and drew closer. I did the same.

“Oh yeah? Got Mopar on the brain?” 

He gave me a quick peck on the bumper before pulling back a bit.

“And on my bumper too.”

He chuckled. Then he gestured with his tire to follow him. He started to lead us around the side of the track; following a little dirt path.

“They lock the main gate, but there’s an opening in the barrier around the back they haven’t bothered to fix.”

I followed close behind Hud; getting a good whiff of his exhaust as we drove along.

“‘Sure no one’s gonna hear us?” 

We pulled through the opening, and Doc turned to face me once we were both on the track.

“Afraid of gettin caught?”

He smirked.

I rolled my eyes.

Hud suddenly spooled up his engine and took off; leaving me in a cloud of dust. Seeing as my question wasn’t going to be answered, I took off after him; quickly pulling up alongside down the second straight away. We looked over at one another; a smile of amusement on Hud’s bumper and an ass eating smirk on mine.

“Ok, ok, so you’re impressive on the straights. Let’s see you take a corner, Big Red.” 

Hud and I quickly approached the banked turn. I put on more power and violently steered to the left; letting my rear end swing around. Once I was just about sideways, I countersteered the other way and slid gracefully with Hud a bit further in front doing the same technique. Drifting had become one of Hud’s big moves on the track and not many other cars could do it due to how tall they were; they’d flip. I had learned about it, and how to control it from living in New Jersey. The winters meant lots of snow, and that didn’t mean racing against the other cars in town stopped. Learning how to control a slide and use it to your advantage was a must if you planned on winning. My drifting was a bit slower than Hud’s, but when he saw that he couldn’t shake me like he could the other racers through the turns, I knew he was impressed.

We came to a stop after that one lap. Hud faced me with a look that said he was impressed, amused, and a bit threatened. I simply smirked and planted a little kiss on his bumper.

“How the hell did you do that, Hotrod? No one around here can keep on me through the corners like that.”

“Thought you said you’ve seen me race. You would’ve seen me drifting in them.” 

“I have. I knew you could drift, I’m just a bit shocked that you do it… just as good as me.”

I chuckled a bit and pulled alongside him.

“Scared, Bumblebee?”

I was starting to show off my more… playful side. Seeing other cars, especially ones I had my eye on, gawk at me was a turn on. 

Hud shifted his eyes towards me, a bit of surprise seemed to flash through them for a moment as he saw that I could play dominant too. He then slipped his wheel into my wheel well and behind my tire; pulling me against him.

“Better watch that mouth, Rookie. We’ll see just how good you are when you have to fight through a pack of cars to catch up to me next season.” 

His voice was deeper, and more growly. It reverberated through our bodies, sending a chill down my drive shaft. 

I pushed myself against him a bit harder, and rubbed against his side a bit. 

“And what if I don’t watch my mouth, Bumblebee? You gonna make me shut it?”

Hud suddenly drove out from our hold on one another and quickly turned to face me. He planted a deep and passionate kiss on my bumper. 

I pushed back into the kiss; opening my mouth to let his tongue in. He had managed to push me off the track and into the infield area under one of the tents, all the while kissing me deeper than he ever had up to that point. 

After a few moments of locking bumpers, Hud pulled away. He still remained right on top of me though; his hot breath gently hitting my hood. 

“You taste good, Hotrod.”

He chuckled and smiled.

I returned the gesture.

“You’re an aggressive son of a bitch. I like it, Bumblebee.”

Hud reached a tire over to gently caress my front end. He started lightly rubbing beside my right fog light.

“That my new nickname?” 

I leaned into his touch and let my eyelids droop ever so slightly.

“Made sense to me. Hornets are bees after all, and you’re my bumblebee.”

I suddenly pushed forward causing his tire to disconnect from my fender, and started lightly kissing and nipping at his bumper and grill; a little moan of pleasure escaping his mouth. Hud began pushing back with less force than he had before, he was letting me take the lead on this one. I continued with a combination of kissing and light nipping while the hornet melted into me; allowing me to do as I pleased. I almost broke the kiss in surprise as I felt his tire come to rest on my right foglight again. He stroked it gently, and with each nip of his bumper I could feel his caress waver slightly as he surcame to pleasure. 

As our kiss continued and our tongues mingled in one another’s mouths, we began to lower ourselves so that our frames could touch the dirt below us. For cars, having sex isn’t the easiest thing to do. Pushing our bodies into the ground below us is, to put it bluntly, humping the ground. Masturbation. For two cars to actually have sex and not come out the other end looking like you got beat to hell, the car on top will put a soft pillow like sheet on their undercarriage with holes cut in it for their junk to come through. The sheet, like I said, is pillowy and allows for a cushion between the two cars so that you can avoid scratching one another. A lot of guys would carry them around in their trunk, I did as well, so I slowly broke the kiss and pulled away slightly with a string of drool hanging between us for a moment.

I smirked at Hud as I popped my trunk, but stopped there when I felt his tire touch my bumper.

“And who said you could be on top, Hotrod?”

I looked to the side, then returned my gaze to the blue hornet; closing my trunk with a soft click.

Hud popped his own trunk and began driving down my left side. As he passed my door, he whispered.

“Lemme take the wheel first.~”

His voice made me shiver, and I lowered on my suspension.

I heard him behind me as he fitted the cover to himself, and instinctively backed up a bit towards him with my rear end raised a bit. A few seconds later Hud positioned himself on top of me; his hardened dick grazed my trunk lid, and I bit my bumper in anticipation.

“Ready?”

“Show me whatcha got, Bumblebee.”

Hud slowly pushed himself into me. I moaned in response, and let my front wheels splay out to the sides as my front end began to lay lazily on the ground. I was just as hard as Hud, and could feel myself leaking a bit of pre as he gently pushed himself inside of me. 

It had been a couple of weeks since I’d last had sex, and I hadn’t jerked off since then so I was a bit pent up. I relaxed my whole body as he slid himself in and out of me; my own boner throbbing as more pre started to leak out.

As Hud became more comfortable, he started thrusting himself harder and harder. He had loosened me up, and slid back and forth smoothly. It was obvious he’d done this before; he knew how to hit the right spots.

“Almost like you’re a pro at this…”

I lazily let the words fall out of my mouth, and had to employ effort to keep my tongue from rolling out.

“Heh.”

His response was meant to sound cocky, but I could hear the faint wavering of his voice in it. I knew he was getting close; as was I.

I pushed my rear end into his thrust, and we both let out moans of pleasure in response. 

“Damn Hudson… You’re big…” 

I was drooling at this point, and I was pretty sure there was a rather large puddle forming underneath me with the amount of pre I’d leaked thus far. I must’ve looked like a mess.

Hud suddenly began thrusting himself hard, and as deeply as he could go. I in response backed myself up into him as much as I could as a message for him to climax in me. About three or four of those deep thrusts later, and I felt myself fill up as he came. 

A second or two later I did the same; the both of our engines quickly spooling up before relaxing again as Hud slid himself off of me. 

Hud barely slinked up next to me, his wheels a bit shaky and splayed out like my own. He leaned against my left fender as the two of us caught our breath. Once we had gotten that under control, Hud started to nuzzle me.

“Damn, Hot Rod. That was good.”

Hud chuckled a bit as his wheel slid behind my own.

“Plenty more for you whenever you want, Bumblebee.”

I lazily shifted my gaze around the tent we’d pushed ourselves into. There weren't any brand specific items inside that could tell us whose it was. It was open only at one side where we’d entered through; a detail I was only now really noticing. 

“You push us in here on purpose?”

I asked as I shifted my gaze to the blue hornet leaning on my fender.

“We didn’t need anyone interrupting us.”

He responded lazily.

I dipped my hood a bit in understanding.

“You hungry? Wanna grab a late breakfast at the diner?”

I pulled away slowly from our little cuddle session and looked to the hornet for a response.

Hud stretched his axles, drove up close to me, and gave me a peck on the bumper. 

“Yeah, I could go for something to eat.”

I nodded my hood and the two of us drove out of the tent and off the track through the gap in the barrier. Upon reaching the road, we brought our engines to life, and slowly drove down the empty street.

As we stopped at a red light, Hud lightly tapped my rear bumper with his tire.

“How do you feel back here?”

I glanced back for a moment and let out a little chuckle.

“You put me through the ringer, that’s for sure.”

Seeing as we were alone at the intersection and the light had yet to turn green, Hud lightly kissed my trunk lid. I jerked a little in surprise which earned another chuckle out of the hornet, who began lightly rubbing his tire on the same spot.

“Feel better, Hotrod?”

The light changed and as we pulled away, he drove up next to me on the left.

“Yes, Hud. Thank you.” 

I offered him a little smile.

After another two minutes of driving we pulled up to the Galaxy Drive Thru Diner. The place was all outdoors featuring a small circular building in the center where the food was prepared, and a round awning where cars could park under and eat. There were stands every dozen or so feet where a tray could be attached, and cars could park around.

The restaurant was probably half full at the time. Notable was a group of dolled up hotrods, who looked like they spent more time putting wax on their metal flake paintwork than putting their souped up engines to work. A ‘50 Chevy Deluxe coupe with flames painted down his side watched Hud and I as we pulled in from their group. I thought for a second about winking at him to piss him off but decided against it since I was with Hud. 

We found a spot to park around the opposite side of the center building from the group of hotrods. As we settled in, a black ‘49 Oldsmobile Rocket 88 business coupe with the number 88 painted on his door drove up to us.

“Well if it isn’t the Fabulous Hudson Hornet. Come to grace us with his presence! Oh, how lucky we are!”

The car had a Long Island accent, looks like I wasn’t the only Northerner in town.

He and Hud chuckled before turning their attention to me.

“Daytona, this is Rocky. His old man owns this place. He used to race with us.”

The Oldsmobile smiled and nodded his hood.

“Nice to meet you, Rocky. You from up north too?”

I noticed the Oldsmobile seemed to be uneven on his suspension. His left side sat lower than this right.

“Grew up in Amityville; out on Long Island. My dad and I moved down here in ‘49 so I could start racing in the Piston Cup.”

“Why’d you stop?”

The Oldsmobile shifted his gaze down to gesture to his left fender.

“Wrecked pretty bad in ‘53. My suspension never really healed properly.”

He offered a gentle smile as I let my gaze look over his frame. I felt bad for him; the poor guy was a champion model in the world of racing, and he had to stop. I must’ve looked apologetic because he spoke up again before I could.

“It’s honestly no big deal. I had my fun on the track! Got my number as a momento. I do standup now! Hell of a lot of fun. I’m enjoying it more than getting dirt in my grill!”

He seemed to light up with excitement and even jump a little. He had great energy; clearly someone good to have around when you need to hear a joke. 

“You’ll have to let me know when and where you’re performing, I’d like to come watch some time.” 

“Piss yourself laughing, then come home for some smoochin’? Sounds like a fun date to me.”

Hud’s sudden interjection almost made me choke. He must’ve seen the shock in my eyes because he quickly elaborated on why the fuck he did that.

“Relax, Hotrod. Rocky’s like us.”

I shifted my gaze from my new boyfriend (might as well call it like it is. We never directly asked one another to be a couple, it just was) to the black coupe. He showed no sign of shock or disgust; further proving Hud’s point.

Rocky’s deep green eyes met my russet ones and he laughed. 

“Don’t worry, Daytona, I don’t judge. Now, what’ll you two freaks of nature have?”

I smiled as I glanced at the menu for a moment.

“Root beer to drink, double cheeseburger and fries to eat.”

Rocky suddenly leaned in a bit closer to me. 

“As opposed to me blending the burger and serving it to you with a straw? Gotcha.”

I chuckled as he turned his attention to Hud.

“What about you? You want to eat some soda and drink a burger?”

Hud rolled his eyes, but smirked in amusement.

“Bacon burger. I’ll have a root beer too.”

The Oldsmobile nodded and began to reverse away.

“Perhaps I will return, perhaps I will not.”

He offered us another smile before turning away and driving into the building.

I looked back over at Hud who seemed to be staring off into a space a little.

“He’s cool. I like him.”

Hud shifted his gaze over to me.

“He’s a good guy. You can trust him with anything.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since I first came here. He introduced me to Smokey.”

I nodded my hood and looked up at the sky. The clouds were beginning to look a bit gray, and I started to wonder how much time we had left before it might start to rain.

“We should head back to my place when we’re done, it’s closer than Smokey’s.”

I looked back to Hud who was now starting to notice the darkening sky as well.

He chuckled.

“My big Chrysler gonna keep me safe from the rain?” 

I snorted a little in amusement.

“Maybe even read you a bedtime story!” 

I jumped up for emphasis, earning a laugh out of the hornet.

“Don’t even think about leaving without giving me a goodnight kiss too.”

“Oh, how could I forget!?” 

I dramatically waved my tire, and the two of us shared another laugh.


End file.
